


Handprints

by orphan_account



Category: Yami No Matsuei
Genre: Canon - Anime, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-11
Updated: 2012-05-11
Packaged: 2017-11-05 04:28:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/402432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hisoka has never had his hand held before now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Handprints

Hisoka has never had his hand held before now.

In the medical wing, Watari watches over them carefully, his fingers twined gently with Hisoka's, though they eventually retreat.

 _The burns_ , he says to Tatsumi outside in the hallway, _are from Touda and will heal. It's the soot, I'm afraid, that will never really come off._

Hisoka wanders in and out of sleep, moaning, tossing and turning, crying, feeling burns all over his skin. It mixes with the dark red curse over his body, wrapping around him like unwelcome arms.

 _"Asato,"_ he says one night, and he's sure now that it's Tatsumi's hand across his brow, smoothing the hair back; Tatsumi's hand that grips his.

He knows he's crying, saying Tsuzuki's name, and then he thinks Tatsumi might be crying too until he hears a calm voice say, "Kurosaki, everything will be fine. Sleep, sleep."

He sleeps and has nightmares about sticks and stones and demons; he has nightmares about masks and theatre, voices chanting uncanny melodic stories, spirits there flitting around his dreams.

He moans Tsuzuki's name on the fourth night, and when he finally wakes and can manage the pain, as the burns have started to heal, he says it again.

"He's here," Watari says, pointing to a figure curled under sheets in a bed nearby. "Bon, he's here. Tsuzuki is there."

Watari's lab coat smells like explosions, but not like soot.

Hisoka falls asleep.

It's dawn, and there are fingers against his face again.

He's relatively sure he didn't weep the night before, and he opens his eyes to the morning light without shame or dread, without wondering who has seen him at his weakest.

"Hisoka," says a familiar voice.

Tsuzuki's hands are unmistakable, and Hisoka closes his eyes again.

He doesn't speak, he doesn't want to pretend or dream; he wants Tsuzuki's fingers there against his face.

"Tsuzuki," he says quietly, kissing the fingers through the tears. "I smell the cherry blossoms."

"Let's go look, Hisoka," Tsuzuki says, clutching Hisoka's fingers tightly in his own.

Hisoka rises and leans against Tsuzuki, and Tsuzuki leans against him.

Outside, the pink trees are shedding petals like snow. Hisoka feels the embrace of Tsuzuki's fingers around his, gentle.

He breathes in the sweet air; Tsuzuki sighs, and all is right, just for a moment.


End file.
